”Everything’s gonna make sense one day,” I tell her. “One day, it will all be okay,”
“That’s a nice thought,”
she says, even though I know she doesn’t believe it.
It’s not quite a lie, but there’s beauty in hope, so I let it slide.
And what do I know?
We’ll only know it’s true
when comes that day
when it really is all okay,
the day I told her about
so many times
during the mental storms,
the endless twitch of concentration,
a mind plauged
with a devout dedication
to being anywhere
but whereever here may be.
A rogue disposed to wandering away from where it doesn’t feel okay
even over there,
anywhere but here,
“please, just take the pain away.”